


Best of the Batch

by morrezela



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Inanimate Objects, Baked Goods, Crack, Food Metaphors, M/M, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 05:50:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6599209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morrezela/pseuds/morrezela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen is a muffin who falls in baked goods love with a slightly younger muffin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best of the Batch

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This isn’t real. The people mentioned belong to themselves. I am receiving no remuneration from this.
> 
> Warnings: Crack
> 
> A/N: As most people know, I like to fill at least one crack-y food prompt per Masquerade round. (A tradition that was started back when Blindfold was still around.) This is the Spring 2016’s fill. 
> 
> This was written for the 2016 Spring Round of SPN_Masquerade

Jensen sat, feeling his soft, fluffy batter contract and pull his liner closer to his body. He was one sexy muffin, if he did say so himself. His top was still hot, leaking steam into the air around his crisp surface. Everybody on the cooling rack said they’d never seen such a sexy muffin before. 

Not even old Jeff, who had been cooling for almost twelve minutes before Jensen had been pulled out of the oven, was sexier. Though, with his melty-chocolate chips and slivered almonds, some of the muffins in Jensen’s own dozen had espoused interest in spreading butter on that old muffin. 

Still, Jensen with his green food coloring and Guinness flavoring was pretty hot right now. He’d been made specifically for the green fiends that come out for Saint Patrick’s Day. His flavor had an earthy profile with a deceptive sweetness from the alcohol that had cooked out of him while he baked. 

Jensen knew from the discussions the makers had had over him while they were mixing his batter that he wouldn’t be a best seller. He and the rest of his dozen were special order kind of muffins. They were for adults with refined palates. The common muffin grabbers wouldn’t be coating their tongues with his superior flavor profile. 

All in all, Jensen was very pleased with how he’d come out. He was the best of the batch, and he thought he was a fairly reliable judge on that fact. His perch on the cooling rack allowed him to see all of the other muffins in the bakery. None had the perfect muffin top, excellent rise and even cooking that he had. 

The baker came back into the kitchen and opened the oven to remove even more trays of muffins. What came out where incredibly fruity smelling things. Jensen knew, based on what the mixer had told him, that these muffins were for a child’s birthday party. They’d be going to the same house as Jensen, but were meant for a younger crowd’s consumption. 

The bright blue batter had gained a golden crust, making the actual color of the cupcakes indecipherable. The remains of bright gummy worms popped out of the tops here and there. The entire batch was swaddled in plaid liners. “Kids, man,” Rosey the beat up, old mixer had told Jensen, “they’re weird.”

But as Jensen watched the batch settle down next to his, a rather… large muffin caught his attention. It had obviously been over-poured with the way its top sagged over the sides of its liner. Despite this, it looked like a rather happy muffin, its gummy worms making an almost human smile on its crust. 

Jensen decided that it was a pretty muffin. The four minutes of cooling he had on it didn’t seem like too much of a gap in time. If his batch could coo over Jeff, he could certainly admire a younger muffin. Some folk, or so he’d been told, liked their muffins right out of the oven. Nobody had said it was weird or wrong. 

“Hey,” Jensen said as he rustled his liner a bit to catch the younger muffin’s attention.

“Who, me?” the large muffin asked. 

“Yeah, hey,” Jensen said with as much warmth as his cooling cake could muster. “I’m Jensen.”

“I know who you are,” the other muffin said. “I mean, I’ve heard about you. We’re from the same oven!”

“Imagine that,” Jensen replied, trying to inject a bit of sultry flirting into his tone. “I don’t have the pleasure of your name?”

“Oh. Jared. My name is Jared,” the large muffin said shyly.

“Well, Jared, you look good enough to eat,” Jensen told him.

[} [} [}

They ended up talking through the night. As batch after batch of muffins came, Jared and Jensen stayed together. Slowly, Jensen stroked his liner against Jared’s, and Jared returned the favor.

Jensen was about to suggest they move to the next step (their lives weren’t that long after all) when another worker that wasn’t the baker plucked him up from his cooling spot. He heard Jared cry out after him, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t even tumble to the floor because the new human had a secure grip.

Jensen, and the rest of his dozen, was taken to a new station. Far, far away, he could almost make out Jared’s form – left behind on the cooling rack. 

The human delicately put Jensen down on a clean board and held some sort of scary contraption over his top. It had a round, metal thing at the end of some sort of bag. The thing had _teeth_. Jensen feared for his beautiful, perfect muffin top as it came closer.

He braced his crust for the inevitable puncturing, but it never came. A light, fluffy substance came out of the toothed, metal thing. It settled nicely on top of Jensen’s crust, clinging there, moistening it. The light, light brown of it was so pale it was more blonde that brown. Jensen caught his reflection on the side of a mixing bowl as he was moved aside for the next of his dozen. He looked quite dashing.

The new human worked quickly on the rest of Jensen’s dozen. When they all had the whipped topping on their tops, the human decorated them with a mix of golden and green sprinkles and tiny, beer bottles made out of sugar. Jensen almost forgot about Jared in all of the excitement, but almost didn’t count.

Just because Jensen was a cupcake ( _A Cupcake! Not a Muffin! Who Could Have Known?_ ) didn’t mean he had forgotten about his one true muffin love. He was certain that he could make their romance work, even though they were different pastries. 

But Jensen did not get the opportunity to attempt talking to Jared again. The decorator loaded him and the rest of his batch into a large, white box. They fit snuggly together, almost as snugly as they had been when they were all one batter being stirred by the old mixer.

Jensen was glad that he was put near the center. Only one side of him was pressed up next to one of his batch mates. The other was free. He did not know how long they sat there as he was a muffin – no, cupcake – and didn’t know how to tell time. He only knew that he began to worry that his frosting might dry out as the decorator had not closed the box to protect his beautiful coating from the air.

The decorator eventually returned. Jensen would have given her a piece of his top if he was able to speak to the humans, but as he was a baked good, he could not. He had just settled his mind on being the grumpiest cupcake in the world when he saw a gorgeous, wonderful, decadent cupcake descending towards him, cradled in the hands of the human who had decorated him.

It was Jared! The shaggy heaping of chocolate frosting and cap of brightly colored, glittering sparkles could not disguise the size of his top. Miraculously, Jared was settled next to Jensen, closer even than they had been on the cooling rack.

“Jared!” Jensen couldn’t believe their luck. “You’re a cupcake too?!”

“Yeah,” Jared said with a flick of his luxurious frosting. “I like my frosting, don’t you?”

“You looked beautiful, even when you were bald,” Jensen told him.

Jared laughed. “We thought we were muffins then.”

“Well, we’re baked goods. We’re not supposed to be smart like a toaster or anything,” Jensen defended past-them.

“True, true,” Jared said. A mischievous glint hit his sprinkles as the lid of the box was closed and taped shut over them. “So I was thinking. The decorator was talking to somebody called, ‘Chad.’ And apparently this ‘Chad’ is going to deliver us to some fancy house, and he’s not supposed to ‘smush’ us together.”

“Okay?” Jensen said, confused.

“Well, I asked the frosting bag about this ‘smushing’ stuff. Oh, by the way, he’s insulted that you were afraid of him,” Jared informed him.

“I was not scared,” Jensen huffed, “and you were telling me about this smushing thing.”

“Yeah, okay. Anyway, smushing is compression of baked goods. But apparently you can smush two cupcakes together – and if you take too sharp of a turn they’ll even sometimes smear their frosting against each other…” Jared trailed off with a meaningful rustle of his liner.

“So you’d like to put your frosting on me, huh big boy?” Jensen asked. “What will the other cupcakes think?”

“I think they’ll think we’re behind the times,” Jared pointed out as their box listed to the side. Chad obviously hadn’t taken the decorator’s warnings to heart. 

That suited Jensen just fine. He was going to enjoy smearing his frosting all over Jared’s top and maybe blowing some sprinkles on him too.


End file.
